


It's a Family Affair

by vir_tanadahl



Series: The Falling of the Dread Wolf [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vir_tanadahl/pseuds/vir_tanadahl
Summary: Sequel to As the Moon Rises.With the Inquisition now disbanded, Isera sets her goals on stopping Solas by showing him a different way to change the world. The former Inquisitor, Banreas, has taken a smaller role to defeat Solas, if necessary, with little interest in other political affairs. Isera, with new found political influence, is using her power to collate elven associates who seek to better the elves without destroying the world. But will they be successful?





	1. Chapter 1

It has been over two years since her discovery of Solas’s true identity. Isera had sent ravens to every Dalish Clan she could remember. Leliana gave her contacts of elven associates, and Varric stated that he “knew of people” that could be helpful. Of those elven members within the Inquisition, if they hadn’t already disappeared, Isera called upon them to come with her. Almost all of them agreed. 

Briala met her at the entrance of the Citadelle du Corbeau, the old fortress that housed the Empress’s troops during the height of the civil war in the Exalted Plains. While the Veil is not torn here, it is fragile. 

 

Isera is sitting on her hart in the shade, staring up at the impressive gate of the keep. “We are waiting on the contacts.” She informs the Marquise. Briala traveled from the Emerald Graves, where she made her home to assist with obtaining the keep. 

Briala turns to look at her. “Do you know who it is?” Isera only informed her that she had chosen two people that could be potential advisors. It is likely Briala’s contacts did not know whom she called upon.

 

Isera nods. “I know of one. She gave up everything to discover the old ways. And the other is a formidable warrior with strange abilities, I hear. Both associates of the Viscount in Kirkwall.” Isera turns looks at Briala who is mounted on a hart. “How is the political climate?” She asks.

 

There has been a surge of elven associations rising across Thedas. One of the first to join with Isera was Keeper Lanaya from Clan Alarahel who has had a settlement in southern Ferelden for almost 15 years. The Denerim associate, Shianni, the Hahren for the cities and elven advocate for King Alistair also contacted her.

First Neria of Clan Ralaferin helped settle Llomerryn in Rivain a year ago. Clan Lavellan in Wycome has established a strong political presence there thanks to Varric and the will of Keeper Deshanna. Briala had been granted a title, land, and a position within Orlais where she advocated for elves. Banreas, given his title as Herald of Andraste and his actions during the last few years, left him as an idol and hero in almost all elven eyes.

Briala rolls her eyes. “Stormy, as always. Nervous at the new found power of the elves in Orlais, crying at Celene to retract her offer, to you in particular.”

 

Isera chuckles at the idea. “And her response?”

Briala laughs. “Reminds them that they would be dead if it were not for the Herald of Andraste, who is elven and your brother. How she would be dead, and Oralis would have fallen if he and I didn’t come together to save Orlais.”

 

Isera chuckles, but both knew that Briala had been plotting against Celene. Banreas had discovered the plot and chose to show Briala in a positive light. He never shared with Isera why he elected to reunite the couple. But alas, his actions lead to their new position of power.

Isera, like most of the Inner Circle of the Inquisition, had been granted noble titles in Ferelden and Orlais. Isera was given land around the Citadelle du Corbeau in the Exalted Plains as a reward from the Empress and King Alistair…well, he said he’d give her just about anything barring illegal acts.

 

Briala glances around. The bodies of the fallen soldiers have long since been removed, but the land around them is struggling to live again. “Have you thought of what you will do with this place?” Briala wonders. The fortress is in ruin and disrepair in light of recent events.

“Yes.” Isera shares. “I want this to be many things. But for now, a refuge, a place of learning and a place that will be protected.”

 

“Would you seek to isolate?” Briala asks.

Isera shakes her head. “The Fall of the Dales showed that we cannot isolate. Learning and understanding our differences is imperative.” Isera states. During her time in the Inquisition, Isera studied the Fall of the Dales through the lens of humans who had defeated them and compared the literature to Dalish tales.

 

One thing stood out—the elves have no allies to call upon when the Exalted March began. There were no avenue of political power. That, in turn, assisted in their defeat once more.

Briala grins at the idea. “And, as a place of learning, what will you teach?” She teases.

 

Isera smiles with a sly grin. “Everything.” She knows Briala is aware of the plans for the fortress. 

Briala believed her when Isera visited, about the impending doom upon the world from Solas—Fen’harel. In fact, Briala shared she met an elf that she now suspects was an agent of Fen’harel.

 

Isera will appoint Briala is set to be her spymaster and liaison to Orlais. Briala has greater skill in the Great Game and has been corresponding with Charter, one of the Divine’s best spies for months now. She would ensure the political power of the elves.

“And what of your General?”

 

“My reports say he has been hunting Tevinter magister, long before Corypheus recruited them. Former slave. Has his been leading a platoon.”

Briala frowns. “A platoon is nothing compared to leading a legion of armies.”

 

“No, but what elf do you know has to lead a charge with the masses?” Isera challenges. The only elf that has lead a large force would have been Banreas, yet he had Cullen as his Commander. No elf would have been raised to a stature such has led a massive army—the idea is unheard of.

“Point taken,” Briala confirms. “Would the Inquisition’s former Commander be willing to train him?”

 

Isera shakes her head. The idea is a good one; however, Cullen had just settled down in Honneleath with his family and begun a place for Templar who are seeking to be off of lyrium. She would not ask him to leave. “No.”

Briala frowns. “I will see what strings I can pull.”

 

“By the Creators! Will someone help me with this?” A voice, high and sweet calls from the bottom of the hill. “This is the right fortress, right?” The small figure looks around. She is surrounded by elven guards still wearing the Inquisition armor. They look unsure of the elf.

Isera turns, demounting her hart and walks to the woman. “Are you Merrill of Sabrea Clan?” She asks.

 

“Oh yes! That is me.” She beams as she turns to face Isera. “Oh my, your eyes—Varric said not to say anything…and there I go saying something.” She babbles. “Anyway, I am Merrill, former First of Clan Sabrea.” She turns to look at the caravan behind her. “I have brought everything that I have collected over the years that could be relevant.”

 

Isera nods with a smile. “I am Isera Lavellan, and I am the one who requested you here.”

“My goodness! You are the sister of Banreas Lavellan? Didn’t we meet before…?” Merrill hums, still staring at Isera. Merrill frowns. “Why is he called the Herald of Andraste? Did he convert?”

 

Isera blinks at the rapid questioning. “Let us discuss after we take control of the fortress’s defenses,” Isera asks, as she motions Merrill to follow her. “I was here when the humans had activated the defensive, causing a massacre. I believe I know how to control them, but it is a lot of magic to expel.” She explains.

Merrill smiles, staff in hand as together they open the doors. Isera motions for Briala to stay with the guards. The Marquise frowns as she watches the two disappear into the keep.

 

Merrill looks around the desolate fortress. “This place is quite big—are we going to get lost?”

“Ah, no. We won’t.”

 

The worry is evident on her face “Is it dangerous? The Veil is thin here, don’t you feel it?” Merrill states.

 

“Yes, I do.”

“Hm. Well, we should tread carefully. Don’t want the Dread Wolf to catch our scent.”

 

Isera snorts, choking back a chuckle. She now believes that Varric did not inform Merrill of exactly the reasons behind the call to the fortress. That Isera will be asking her to join her forces to prevent and save the Dread Wolf if they can.

“Up this way.” Isera points as they head up a derelict staircase. The runes of the defenses are still active and have the potential to attack at any moment due to the tampering by unskilled rune smiths and mages.

 

When they approach the defenses, Merrill studies the runes. “I have never seen runes like this before. How exciting!” She exclaims as she claps her hands. “Isn’t it?”

 

“I guess,” Isera responds as she watches Merrill. Isera is not used to the unbridled level of positivity and enthusiasm that Merrill is exhibiting. “Ah, I think to regain control of the defenses, we need to perform…” Isera begins pulling a paper out of a small bag on her back. “…this…” she passes the paper to the other mage. 

Merrill studies the paper. “Oh! This is a good spell! Did you create it?” She asks, her large, bright green eyes stare up at her. “If you created it, you are quite a clever mage.”

Isera smiles tightly. “No, I found it in a book. I can show you sometime.” Isera offers.

 

Merrill beams at the idea as she begins preparing for the ritual.

\---

The two mages walk down the steps of the fortress. There is screaming below. They glance at each other as the rush down to see an elven man with…lyrium tattooed on him yelling at one of Isera’s guards.

 

“Fenris!” Merrill shouts with glee as she rushes down to greet the man without hesitation. Isera falters before following. Briala is standing to the side attempting to calm the elven guards.

“What is going on?” Isera calls as she stands between the elven who is glowing blue with anger and her guard.

 

The glowing man glares at her. “Do you encourage your men to insult those you call for assistance?” He demands. Merrill is standing to the side of him looking concern.

“I’m sorry?” Isera says as she looks at him before looking down at her soldier. The soldier stands to his feet, his face is marked with the vallaslin, and he is glaring at the man who continues to glow blue with magic.

 

“He is imitating Dalish without being Dalish!” The soldier cries with a snarl. Isera stares at him—he’s young and apparently has not left the clan before now.  The man is tattooed with what is lyrium and typical elven patterns. 

Isera sighs the bad blood between the Dalish and City elves run deep in some Clans. “That is unworthy of you.” She turns to stand in front of the soldier, her shoulder pulled back, in control of the situation. “Our People are one, no matter the path they took.”

 

The boy shakes his head in denial. “He’s not our people!” The boy cries.

Isera doesn’t flinch as her face hardens. “And who are the Dalish, boy?” She asks as her eyes narrow.

 

The boy is quick to answer as he stares up at her in defiance. “Those who did not live in the cities, who refused to submit!”

“No. Who are the Dalish?” She asks again

 

He pauses glaring at Isera. “Elves!” he replies with bitterness. 

“And who are the elves who live in the cities?”

 

“Elves who have lost their spirit! They are no better than the humans!” He tries to argue.

“Yet, here they stand—city elves and Dalish elves standing side by side, as one, because there was a call for them. Do you see a loss of spirit, now, boy?” Isera challenges his belief.

He glances around, a sea of faces around him, some marked with the vallaslin and some not all staring at him.

 

A seed of doubt is sown as he glances down. “I..I..don't know.” He hesitates.

Isera shakes her head. “That is not the answer, boy. You know this to be true.” She informs him.

She pauses, looking around. “Back in formation!” Isera orders her guardsmen. “Your first task to help remove the rubble of the fortress. Now go.” Isera orders as she watches her guard march into Citadelle du Corbeau.

 

Isera takes a deep breath as she turns to face the injured party. “I sincerely apologize on behalf on my men. What has the ability to divide will be mended.” She tells the man. “Briala, please see to it that you create teams of four to help remove the rubble. Two Dalish per two city elves. Let’s start teaming building exercises now.”

Briala’s eyes narrow at the order, apparently wanting to observe the political interaction between Isera and the two potentials, but she departs to pass on the orders.

 

Isera turns to the man who is no longer glowing blue. “My name is Isera. Thank you for coming.” She introduces herself, tilting her head slightly with the greeting.

 

He nods. “Fenris.” He glances behind Isera. “Merrill.” He greets the other woman. 

Merrill perks up at the greet, stepping forward with a smile. “How have you been? I heard you were killing the Tevinters!” She asks with a little too much enthusiasm.

Isera turns to look at Merrill in surprise. “You two know each other?”

 

“Yes! We met in Kirkwall!” Merrill shares still smiling. “He isn’t fond of me though.”

Isera blinks slowly at Merrill a small but tight smile forming on her face at the statement before she turns to look at Fenris in confusion. He is frowning but does not say anything.

“Ah, okay.” Isera hums awkwardly. “I am sure you are wondering what you are doing here.”

 

“Oh, Varric asked us to be!” Merrill replies cheerfully.

Fenris glances at Merrill. “Varric requested that we meet, to hear your request.”

 

Isera nods, leading them into the fortress and to a large room. There is a chill in the air. This argument is going to be hard to sell, asking two elves who know nothing of her to join her force to stop the Dread Wolf of all things.

“Merrill, as the former First, I am sure you are aware of the tales of the Dread Wolf?” Isera asks, pulling her hands behind her back to mask her nerves.

 

“Of course.”

Isera turns to Fenris and poses him the question as well.“And you, Fenris? Do you know the tales?”

“I have been…acquainted with them.” He answers. His level of suspicious against her is clear as day. He does not know what to make of her.

 

Merrill smiles. “I shared him the stories of the Dalish!”

Isera nods, dropping a cloth bag onto a dusky table with broken maps. She pauses, thinking about her words. “What if I told you, that legends and stories as we know are wrong?”

Merrill frowns at the idea. “What do you mean?” She asks.

 

Isera pulls out texts and papers laying them flat on the desk as she waits to answer. “What if I told you that our stories of the trickster Dread Wolf, who locked away our Gods for enjoyment, are wrong?”

Merrill scowls. “The Dalish may have forgotten parts, but they wouldn’t forget that!” 

“What if only parts of the legend are true?” Isera taps the old text. A book she found in the broken library in the Crossroads a year ago with the last accounts of the ancient elvhen.

 

Isera can see the conflict in Merrill’s face about the idea. But Varric suggested her for a reason. Merrill, as he said, is passionate about the elves and history. She may be resistant, but she will be open-minded.

“Why do the stories matter?” Fenris questions as his level of impatience increases. “How does that relate to why we are here?”

“Fenris, you and Merrill were there when Hawke siblings fought against Corypheus, the first time, no? Could the idea that the Elvhen Gods could still exist as well?”

 

“The Dread Wolf is…here?” Merrill asks, her voice is small and worried at the idea.

“The Dread Wolf was once and is known by the name of Solas. He assisted with the defeat of Corypheus with Inquisition.” Isera paces back and forth. “He also helped with the discovery of the failed qunari invasion two years ago during the Exalted Council.”

 

The two watch her pace in silence.

 

“Solas did seal away the people we claimed as our Gods and crafted the Veil as we know it today. He claims we were warring amongst each other and someone murdered Mythal.” Isera briefly looks at them. “As punishment, he sealed them away for eternity. A side effect of sealing the gods away was the creation of the Veil. We began to age because we lost our connection to magic.”

“You’re lying.” Merrill accuses, her hands resting on her face in surprise.

 

“I wish I was.” Isera grimaces. “I am theorizing, at this point, after the separation by the Veil, that Tevinter took advance of the chaos and enslaved the elves, thus began our continued subjugation.”

 

“Continued?.” Fenris asks glancing at Merrill. There are no stories of the elves being enslaved before the involvement of Tevinter.

“Yes…” Isera confirms. “We were…no different than humans. We enslaved our own. Our stories of the vallaslin are right and wrong. Right in the sense that the markings did honor the Gods…but only on slaves owned by nobles.”

 

Merrill’s eyes narrow. “If this is what this Solas told you, who are also claiming is Fen’harel, he could be lying.”

Isera sighs. “He is not. I found reports of his actions during that time…” Isera points to the papers that she collected and saved two years ago.

 

“You said Mythal was murdered,” Merrill asks, her eyes still narrow as she glares at Isera. 

“Yes. I do not know the details, but she yet lives.”

 

“You are telling me, Mythal the Protector, the All-Mother, was murdered, but is alive?” Merrill asks.

“In one sense. The Evanuris aren’t killed so easily. Mythal, after her murdered, came to a woman by the name of Flemeth—“

 

Merrill jumps up, her eyes wide in awe. “Asha'bellanar!” Merrill gasps in surprise. She begins pacing about the room clearly in thought at the name.

Fenris scowls, looking at Merrill. “That witch we freed all those years ago?” He asks, vaguely remembering what the witch was called.

 

Isera looks between them. “You’ve met her?” Isera asks with confusion. 

Merrill nods. “It is a long story. Yes. I believe you.” She begins pulling at a piece of her robes.

 

Isera shakes her head. “Please, do not take my word. Read these,” she waves to the books. “And decide on your own.” This step is imperative for Isera—she wants them to know what she does about the Solas and the elven history.

“But why call us here?” Fenris asks once more.

 

Isera glances down. “Solas…seeks to renew what once was. But his belief is that, in order to restore the world as it was, would destroy what we know today—humans, dwarves,…possibly even modern day elves.”

She takes a deep breath. “I seek to stop him, show him that we can lower the Veil safety without destroying our friends.”

 

“It sounds simpler if we would simply kill him,” Fenris suggests. “What happens if we lower the Veil?”

 

She debates on sharing her relationship with them. “The easier method may not be the best method. I…want to save him…he is important to me.” She explains. “As for lowering the Veil…,I’m not sure. We were once a part of the Veil, our lives were longer, and it is said we all had magic…”

Merrill frowns in thought before bursting out, “You two were lovers!”

 

Isera grimaces at the announcement. She takes another deep breath. “Wouldn’t you do anything to save the one you love?” Isera presses.

Merrill sighs looking longingly at Fenris. “I would do anything for Carver. I miss him dearly.” She pauses. “You would do anything for Marian, wouldn’t you?”

 

Fenris roughly sighs but does not say anything. “What would you have us do?” He asks. 

“I not only seek to prevent Solas from destroying this world, but I also strive to make this place a haven for elves. We have Clan Lavellan in Wycome, Briala in the Dales, the Dalish establishment in Rivain, and a settlement and representatives in Ferelden.” Isera shares.

 

“We will train, education, open our doors to the People. War is coming, I do not know when, but it is. We will need to prepare the elves to fight like times of old.”

Isera pauses, turning to Merrill. “Merrill, you have given up much to further your studies of our history. It is time that our People gave back to you; I want you to be the Magical Advisor for me. You would assist with newly discovered elves to practice magic safely and learn as much as you can about our history and magic of old.”

 

She looks to Fenris. “And Fenris, you have skills in commanding a platoon. You are a former slave rising to power—you inspire those around you. You would help train the recruits, be in charge of the army.”

“What if I do not agree with your methods?” Fenris challenges.

 

“I may be the face of this organization, but I do not solely lead or have the power. We will represent the People. I have called for the leaders of both the cities and the Dalish to come and be a part of a senate.” 

“The People’s weakness lies in the fracturing and separation of our traditions and beliefs when more things tie us together. We will vote on the path that best represents our People as much as possible.”

 

“You have put a lot of thought into this.” He sighs as he glances at the old books on the table.

“I had to.”

 

“Let me read your books. But I feel that I should help you lead the People.” Merrill states as she moves to sit at the table.

Fenris frowns. “I’ll let you know.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Merrill accepted her position—her studies focused on the Veil, searching the Fade for remnants of past knowledge, how to help to remove the Veil, and understanding old elven magic. The Keepers who were not teaching history were illustrating basic control over magic to those who began to show magical talent.

Fenris had been reluctant to accept his position but ultimately did. Isera promised that she would send agents to free elven slaves in Tevinter and bring them here if they so choose. The People would teach them and protect their newly found freedom.

 

The advisors never asked about her eyes—mostly given the recent discoveries in magic. Isera opted out at explaining to her advisors that she is not a modern day elf, primarily because Isera feels that she is no different than the modern day elves. She may have been born in the time of Arlathan, but she was raised in the present, not the past.

The first task, clearing the rubble and repairing the build has begun and are moving quickly. Isera is shocked to see that elves from across Thedas were flocking to Citadelle du Corbeau in large droves almost daily. The First, the Seconds and the Hahrens began working alongside each other to teach the folk—young and old.

 

Without delay, a system is put into place. Those who are too old for physical labor would care for the young. The craftsmen and craftswomen are creating tools for the repairs. Those with skills in cooking were sent to the kitchen and given apprentices who would learn from them were being taught to forage. Those with skills as hunters are training younger elves to hunt and defend themselves as well as bring food to the masses. 

Isera stressed that the underlining message, with regard to magic, is that is magic is powerful and should be treated with respect rather than fear. She took strides to mend distrust and misconceptions between city elves and Dalish elves.

 

Then, the whispers began. _Halan'ghillan_. They called her. They started comparing her to the Golden Halla—who is said to only show in times of great need. The People are saying she is leading them home.

\---

The bulk of the repairs had been completed, at least, in the high trafficked areas. Isera and her advisory team had called for a meeting of the masses. It is time to announce the organization’s intentions. 

They are located in one of the inner chambers that is shaped like a small arena. Isera, Briala, Merrill, and Fenris sit at the lowest, northern most part while the those who make up the Senate, Keepers and Hahrens, circle to the sides. Behind them, the masses that encompass them.

 

Isera stands as the room settles to a silence as she walks to stand in the center, to address the elves, the flock as some have called out of affection.

She coughs as she raises on hand for complete silence. “First, I must thank you.” Isera begins, her voice echoing across the room. “You coming, traveling across Thedas marks a great day. It shows how brave you are—how much hope you have for the People.” Her voice projects around the room as there are choruses of cheers.

 

“We come from different background—some hail from the Clans of the Dalish” More roars of pride. “Others from the Alienage of the cities” echoes of delight, “And others,” Isera looks around. “Broke your chains.” The loudest of all.

“You are not loyal to me. I do not and will not ask you to take a knee to pledge your loyalty.” Isera pauses. “For far too long, the elves have taken a knee to those who do not see us as equals.” Jeers.

 

“You are all equal here. I ask; however, that you do not look at your fellow countrymen as see what divides you. I ask that you learn from each other. We are all elven here.” Hails of agreement.

“We isolated ourselves from our brethren and the world when we were in Halamshiral—we did not assist when called upon. I ask that we mend those bonds. I ask that you, the People, make us stronger. That we make ourselves equal to that of humans.” Cheers.

 

Isera pauses. The room feels heavy as she shifts the topic. “You have heard the whispers, in your dreams?” Her voice is softer at the announcement. Silence. She watches as they look around at each other—fear and worry marking their faces. 

“I have heard them.” Isera shares. “The call to something greater by one who has not walked our paths, who have not seen our struggles, one who believes he has the best intentions.” Light chatter.

 

“One who wants to change our world, without our input. And as such, I ask that those who are willing, begin training to fight. I ask, that those who are willing learn the magic of healing and combat. I ask, that those who are too afraid of weapons and magic to assist the People in other ways. 

Isera pauses. “But most of all, I ask you, to stand proud. Stand tall. As of now, we have a home.” Laughing and cheering.

 

Isera turns back to her advisors. “And now, I want to introduce you to your council. Briala, the Marquise of the Dales, the liaison with Orlais. Merrill, the Former First of Clan Sabrea, our Magical Advisor, and finally, Fenris, the Unbroken, our Commander.”

Everyone rises applauding the announcement, cheering loudly with excitement. Briala stands, walking to the center of the arena. She raises her hands to quiet the crowd. After a moment, the crowd is silent, waiting for her proclamation.

 

She points to Isera. “You all have heard of our leader, Isera, of Clan Lavellan, a Rivaini Seerer, who helped defeat the False God Corypheus, and our Halan'ghillan. The one who is guiding us home, guiding us to our future.”

There is a thunderous applause. Isera smiles. She can feel her skin heating up from embarrassment. Isera returns to her seat as Briala encourages the People to speak the Elders, the Senate when concerns arise. That they seek to be different, and that the People will be able to vote and express concerns without fear.

 

A democracy. An Elven Council.

\--- 

Three years have passed. The eluvian Isera took from Skyhold is hidden within her closet. Solas visits once a week to see the girls who are now seven. They never talk about their plans. He is aware she is trying to save him. To prove him wrong.

 

He has the twins for the day. 

Isera hears the chiming of the activation of the eluvian and the soft glow behind the door. She stands to greet her children who stumble through the doorway, rubbing their eyes. It is late for them.

Sora and Veira greet Isera with a sleepy smile and hugs before stumbling through a hidden door to their bedroom.

 

Isera turns to Solas. He looks healthier than he did in Skyhold. He never arrives in his armor—he is always dressed in simple clothing. “How were they?” She asks as she crosses her arms. She is tired and she wants nothing more than to hold him.

“Good.” He glances at her. “I brought them to a field filled with flowers.” He pauses, digging through a bag, pulling out a bundle of flowers. “They wanted you to have these.”

 

Isera feels her heart flutter at the sight. To see him, holding the flowers as though the floras are from him hurt. But she smiles. “They are beautiful.” She takes them, walking to an empty vase on her desk and setting them there.

 

“Any signs of magic?” She asks. Isera keeps hoping that her daughters will develop magical abilities around the age of six when she developed her powers, but alas they girls have yet to show signs. 

Solas frowns. “No.” He sighs in thought. “Your mother thinks—“

 

Isera jerks to look at him. “My mother has been seeing them?” She asks in shock.

He blinks. “They are her grandchildren.” He states plainly not following Isera's train of thought.

 

“You didn’t ask me if they could visit her too!”

Solas hesitates as he glances around. “I didn’t think you would mind it. Are you not okay with the arrangement?” He asks.

 

Isera sighs with force. “Of course, I am okay with the arrangement. But I should have been asked. I should have had a choice!”

 

His face softens as he slumps his shoulders slightly. “I’m sorry. You are right. I was thoughtless on the matter.”

 

Isera frowns, hurt by the discovery. “Anywa—“ A loud boom echoes the room followed by screams. Isera and Solas dash into the twin’s room in a panic.

The girls are cuddled together on their bed that is raised off of the ground by ice and a tangle of roots and flowers.

Solas and Isera grin up at their girls. “Did you do that?” Isera asks with laughter as she reaches towards the girls to help them off of the bed. Her pride quickly fades as she hears the guard coming down the hall, banging on the door.

 

Isera turns to Solas in fear—he is not supposed to be here. Solas frowns and disappears back into Isera’s room behind the closed closet door.

Isera rushes to the door. “It’s okay—there is no threat.” She shouts as she swings open the door. The guard stand with their sword drawn. “Be calm; we have untrained mages present.” She orders. Fear is a terrible thing for a new, untrained mage.

 

The men quickly sheathed their swords and glance into the room. “Should we ask Advisor Merrill to come?” One asks.

Isera smiles. “No, that will not be necessary. I am a mage as well, sir.” She tells them. “Thank you for attending to the potential threat so quickly. I’ll see that Commander Fenris gives you an extra day off.” 

The soldiers grin at the idea. “That won’t be necessary, _Halan'ghillan_. Just doing our job.” The shut the door as they depart.

 

Solas returns a few moments later. “ _Halan'ghillan_?” He eyes her. Isera giggles as she begins casting a spell, melting away the ice and retracting the roots and plants. She glances at him, gently shifting her head toward the broken stones of the room. 

Solas nods in understanding as he uses his magic to rebuild the walks and floor. Together they put their daughters to sleep once more.

 

As they walk back into Isera’s quarters, she turns to him. “Do you think they will be like me? An _i've'an'amelan_?” She asks as she leans against the wall.

Solas pauses, a low hum coming from him in thought. “I am unsure. You had a complete connection with the Fade, thus were able to develop the ability.” He looks back at to the door his girls are behind with a pang of sorrow in his eyes. Another regret. “They do not have the luxury.”

 

Isera frowns. She wants to comfort him, but she knows he believes that he needs to right wrongs. The fact his daughter will not be raised as he was adds to another regret, something else to fix.

Isera sighs. They know better than to ask what the other is doing, but she wants to. If he only could see things from their eyes of modern day elves.

 

She knows she has chaos among those in his ranks. He has done the same within her ranks. Elves that were too extreme to believe in the coexisting within Thedas fled to his ranks to restore old Elvhen Glory. They do not know he is Fen’harel. They know him only as Solas, an elf who know much of the past.

While Isera encourages dissent among the People, when properly handled; however, the Senate and Advisors would not condone acts that would threaten the still infant bond between Orlais, Rivain, and Ferelden. Ferelden had only recently accepted a trading contract with them at the encouraging of Warden Commander Lyna of Clan Sabrea.

 

“We still have much to hope for, _ma vhenan_ ,” Isera whispers as she takes hold of his hand. Sometimes she forgets that he is also Fen’harel, leader the elven rebellion of old with the goal of restoring what once was.

“That we do.” He gives her a sad smile. They hope for similar aspirations but with different paths to obtain such goals.

Isera laces her fingers with his, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing the top of his hand. He’s tired, she can sense it within him. He pulls her closer to him. He smells of moss, cedar, and the faint smell of smoky vanilla.

 

She misses that smell faint in her sheets. They, by no means, ceased their relationship after learning about his identity and plans. Between the sheets is the only place where their goals are the same, their world consists of only them, and the thing becomes less complicated. 

It is a dangerous song they are dancing to.

 

Solas leans down to kiss her. “I cannot stay tonight.” He murmurs as he leans back. Isera frown but nods in understanding. She leads him to the eluvian to bid him goodbye. It hurts to see him go, but she does not say this. He whispers something under his breath activating the mirror. He kisses the top of hand before walking through the mirror once more and sealing it behind him.

Isera stares at the gray mirror.

 

She now knows the activation spell. Solas is a master of hiding and keeping secrets, but he is also exhausted from the fight, even if he does not know it. He trusts her, he let his guard down too much. Isera frowns as she turns to leave her quarters and towards where Merrill has been studying the Veil for the last few years.

He has to trust her to know that she will bring back what once was while maintaining the world as she knows it.


	3. Chapter 3

Another year passes. The girls are eight and have daily studies of magic, history and weapon training. The Divine made good on her promise all those years ago and sent Charter to train them on fighting with daggers. 

The Citadelle du Corbeau has expanded significantly with additions to new land development. The new elves of the Dales developed on the land, created stone houses to live out of and revitalize the ground that was once barren. Where once, the education would have been exclusively within the halls of the fortress, now reside closer to the boroughs of the People.

 

Agriculture is the focus and primary source of income. The craftsmen and women have considerably expanded their talents to increase metal working. Isera and Briala had painfully worked to maintain approval with nearby noble lands via trade and other niceties.

Josephine, despite returning to Antiva to assist her family, would offer pro bono services regarding the financial situation in addition to helping with the diplomatic front of the political sphere.

 

Isera is funding four elves to be trained under Josephine, and she had sent them to Antiva. The elves are in critical need of more representatives and skill to navigate the Great Game.

Isera and Merrill have been using the crossroads to gather information without alerting Solas. It is a delicate balance attempting to navigate the maze, but they have successfully found old books that they were able to utilize in some manner. 

Isera watches from above as the Sora and Veira are training with wooden swords. Isera smiles to herself knowing Sora hates the one handed sword. Sora has complained multiple times that she would rather study magic, language, and history than pick up a sword ever again. But Isera encourages her to find a weapon outside of magic she that she can master.

Suddenly, Sora chucks the wooden sword into the air, splintering it with magic and turning the splinters into an assortment of flowers in the air. “I’m done!” She screams out of frustration. Her face is red from exhaustion and is covered in sweat.

 

“Sora!” Isera calls with a frown on her face. “That was not yours to break. Apologize and go to your room.” Isera demands. Sora glares at her but follows the request. Veira is standing quietly as she watches the flower land on the ground. “I’m not done…” She whines as she looks around. 

Isera smiles. “You are for today. You have done well. Go play with the other children before you evening studies.” She tells her daughter. Veira grins as she gets a second wind of energy as she dashes out of the main gates and down to the village.

 

“Veira is becoming quite proficient at wielding a sword. It might be time to incorporate a shield.” The training approaches Isera from behind.  “For Sora, she is ill-suited for such a task. Perhaps dual wielding would better suit her?”

Isera turns to look at him. “I will call upon the best shieldmaiden I know for Veira.” _Cassandra_.

 

Isera would not force Sora to learn that weapon. If Sora had her way, she would sleep all day exploring the Fade, studying everything about magic and language, and become an exceptional mage. She reminds Isera, so much of their father.

 

But Isera refused to negate. She had saw how weak the mages in the Circle were from a lack of physical training. Her girls, Gods forbid, would never accept such a fate.

“Try archery,” Isera suggests as a squire rushes to her. “I am going to predict that she will be more defensive.”

 

“My lady, your brother has arrived!” He tells her.

“Banreas?” Her eyebrows furrow as she orders the squirm to take her to her brother. He is standing in the stables, unloading his horse as she approaches him. He grins when he sees her.

 

He looks like he has aged rapidly in the few years she has seen him. He has been searching for Solas as well, but their goal is very different. Banreas plans to stop Solas by any means. Isera seeks to change his mind.

The arm that was taken by the mark is now replaced with a magical prosthetic to allow him control over his bow. It is well crafted and designed for his personal taste. “Welcome, brother. I admit I was not expecting you.” She smiles as she hugs him.

 

He grins. “Well, it is about time I come to see one of the largest elven settlements in Thedas.” He pauses. “Also, you have Danga.” He flexes the prosthetic, which response slowly to his command.

She shakes her head. “Ah, yes. She has been training some of the elves about runes and enchantments.”

 

“She also crafted my arm.” He flexes the prosthetic again. “It needs to be recharged, so to speak.”

Isera nods. “Come, I will take you to her.”

 

They walk the halls in near silence. Isera is unsure of what to talk about—they haven’t seen each other since she left Skyhold with a band of elven soldiers behind her. Banreas points to a mural on a wall of a golden halla and a woman that looks similar to Isera. “Is that supposed to be you?” he asks.

 

Isera shakes her head at the idea. She stopped trying to silence the name years ago. “They are quite fond of the symbolism.”

“It’s appropriate, I suppose.” Banreas pauses in thought as they round a corner. “Anyways, where are my nieces?” He asks.

 

Isera smiles. “Sora is probably napping by now.” The child is always sleeping. “Veira is playing in the village. You’ll see them at supper if you stay.”

 

He nods. “I’ll stay for a few days.” 

Isera smiles as she leads him into an undercroft that housed Danga and her students. She is standing in the middle of the room with five appreciates around her as she discussed how to combine runes to weapons and armor.

 

“Lady Danga!” Isera calls as she approaches. “I brought you a visitor.” She moves to the side relieving Banreas, who is grinning, waving his mechanical arm. 

Danga squeals in delight. “We are going to change subjects!” She tells them as she waves Banreas forward. “Now, this is too advance for you lot right now, but one day, you will be able to create things like this!” She removes Banreas’s prosthetic, one of her greatest crafts.

 

Isera quietly departs as Danga starts talking about how she created and energizes the prosthetic.

Isera makes her way to where Merrill’s office is. She is standing front of an open window reading one of the old books she found in the destroyed library.

 

“Oh, you are here!” Merrill exclaims. “I have been asking the spirits of the Fade. They don’t know much, I’m afraid.” She closes the book, turning to face Isera.

Isera frowns thinking of ways to find the spirit that they needed. “What if we aren’t looking in the right places?” She questions out loud. “Solas is a highly capable fade walker, in part, because of his travels,” Isera mutters out. “What if we aren’t asking the right spirits in the right locations?”

 

“Where would you have us look for the right spirits, Isera?”

Isera grins. “Merrill…do you want to see the Temple of Mythal?”

 

Merrill nearly jumps in the air. “What!” She squeals in excitement. “You know of a ruined temple?”

 

“Did I not tell you this before?” Isera tries to recall. The past few years have moved by so quickly.

“We should go, right now!” Merrill demands in her excitement as she attempts to pack. 

“Merrill, Carver is on his way here, isn’t he?” Isera giggles, watching as Merrill shoves random things into a bag.

 

“Oh well, yes.” Merrill hums as she pauses. “But he likes Fenris. He can spend time with Fenris.” Merrill looks concerned. “What if it upset the People?”

Isera frowns. Some of the People frowned on elves dating, marrying, and having children with humans. The Senate had been forced into a debate if children of a human-elf relationship or if humans who are in a relationship with an elf should be allowed in the Keep and the surrounding villages

 

It was a terrible awkward debate about preserving what was left of the elves; however, three of the four members of the advisors were in present relationships with humans. Fortunately, most in the Senate recognize isolating a part of the People would not be beneficial.

“Merrill, the only way people will adjust is by continuing to normalize the relationship.” Isera smiles softly as she places her hand on Merrill's shoulder.

 

“I know you’re right. Oh, I just worry.”

 

“Merrill, you aren’t the only elf to be in a relationship with a human. I will remind you that Fenris and Briala both love humans.” Isera smiles. “Carver is welcomed in these halls.” 

Merrill relaxes with a smile. “Fenris can spend time with Carver for a few days! Let’s go to the Temple of Mythal!”

 

\---

They arrive at the Temple. The magic that had been protecting the sanctum has faded with the departure of the Sentinels. Merrill is beaming with excitement with every step into the Temple. Isera takes her to the Well of Sorrows once stood, now living inside of her.

 

Isera is surprised to see the shattered eluvian. It explains why Corypheus was unable to follow them to Skyhold that day.

 

Merrill is quick to collect the shards. “I repaired an eluvian tainted with the blight. I want to see if we can rebuild this one too. One less for the Dread Wolf, no?” Merrill offers as she carefully packs the shards away.

Isera agrees. “Merrill, you go ahead to begin searching the Fade. I’ll stand guard.” She tells her. The voices are warning her that something is stirring here.

 

She turns to look at Isera. “Why don’t you come with?” Merrill asks as she lays down a mat.

“I’ll watch over you.” Isera answers. Not only are the voices warning her of something, but Isera fears that if she were to dream here, Solas would discover that she is exploring the ruins. Isera placed wards all over the Keep to protect the dreams of the People.

 

Merrill does not argue as she delves into the dreams of this place. 

\---

Isera shakes Merrill awake when she hears voices coming from below. They are ascending the stairs to the Well. Merrill opens her eyes in confused, but does not speak as Isera signals to her to remain quiet.

 

There is no place to hide. 

The men are embellished in the glittered armor that she saw Solas and the Sentinels wear. _Are they Solas’s men?_ Isera thinks, but draws her weapon anyway.

 

They are speaking in ancient elvhen. Merrill murmurs to her that she cannot understand them.

They are quick to draw their weapons when they see Merrill and Isera standing in front of the empty well. They are shouting in ancient elvhen at them, and the voices from the Well are not translating for Isera. But one word stands out, i've'an'amelan. And they are pointing at her.

 

“Merrill, we need to go.” Isera whispers. Something tells her that these men are not a part of Solas’s armada. The men bare no _vallaslin_ and are clearly different from the elves of this time.

Isera turns slightly to Merrill. “Can you shape shift?” She asks, her voice is low as to not alert the men of her intention to flee.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Reach for your bag and turn.”

 

“But—“

 

“Merrill!” Her voice is hard as she slams her staff onto the ground erecting ice wall around them.

Merrill does as she is told and in one quick motion, she turns into a raven and flies away from them. The men shout in anger as they attempt to attack her, but Isera calls upon a kinetic barrier that absorbs their magic before shape-shifting herself and flying away.

 

They do not follow her.

\---

Isera and Merrill meet in a hidden cave in the higher altitude of the Abhor Wilds hoping that the men who found them weren’t attempting to follow them.

“What were they looking for?” Merrill wonders as she walks around the back end of the cave. “The Well, maybe?” Merril thinks out loud.

 

“The empty Well?” Merrill looks at her. “It probably has been empty for centuries.” Merrill finally concludes her thoughts.

Isera continues to look out towards the forest. “No, only a few years now.” She answers.

 

Merrill stops pacing. “How would you know that?” 

Isera sighs. She turns to sit down as she began explaining to Merrill the events that led up to the Inquisition discovering the Well, the Sentinels who guarded the Temple, and her role—drinking from the Well.

 

“You…drank from the Well? Do you feel different?” Merrill asks. Isera can tell that Merrill has many questions that she wants to ask, but is trying hard not to overwhelm her.

Isera shrugs. “Not really…sometimes there are a lot of voices talking.”

 

“What do the voices say.”

 

Isera shakes her head. “They tell me what to do, mostly. They can be quite loud, but sometimes I don’t hear them at all.”

“Is that why you built the Elven Council? The voices told you, are telling you to save the People?”

 

Isera frowns as she thinks about what Merrill said. “I don’t think so.” Isera watches as Merrill stares at the opening of the cave, thinking about what Isera has shared with her.

“Merrill…there is one more thing.” Isera looks away. She had been contemplating for years to share with Merrill about her abilities and heritage. That Isera was not a modern elf by blood and only by culture. “Did you hear the men when they said “ _i've'an'amelan_ ”?”

 

“Oh yes, I read about them, I think. Translating ancient elvhen into modern elven is a bit tricky. But, an _i've'an'amelan_ is a type of mage, I believe. Or magical ability? Not an object.” Merrill hums out in thought.

Isera nods. “You are right…because I am an _i've'an'amelan_.”

 

Merrill laughs. “That’s not possible.”

“It is…watch.” The Voices have given her information on her abilities over the years, helping train her both in her dreams and in reality. It is weird to have teachers within your mind controlling your body at random times.

 

Isera calls forth the Veil, watching it glimmer at her pulling. She wills the Veil into a shape of a mouse and before releasing the magic. The Fade mouse falls into the ground squeaking with every step as it scurries around. It is a creation of the Veil but looks like a real mouse.

“You shouldn’t be able to do that!” Merrill shrieks in surprise and in awe. Mages do not have the ability to create life from the Veil. It is one thing to bind a spirit into something, but another to conjure life.

 

Isera waves the mouse away in panic, it dissipating back into the Fade with a sweep of her hand. “Merrill!” Isera raises her voice, worried that the noise will give away their location.

Merrill slaps her hands over her mouth. “I’m afraid the voices only share the skills of my ability at their own pace.” Isera explains as she rubs her hands together. She is worried Merrill will yell at her, call her an abomination.

 

Merrill takes a deep breath as she relaxes her arms down to her sides. “How did you do that? Can you teach others?” She asks.

Isera smiles. “The Veil is living, Merrill. It may have been created by Solas all those years ago, but it has grown, and it thrives.” Isera tries to explain. “I don’t think this is something one is taught…from my understanding you are born with the ability.” Isera answers.

 

“But I would try and teach you if you would like…but Merrill…” Isera takes a deep breath. “You can’t tell anyone…”


	4. Chapter 4

The travel back to the Citadelle du Corbeau is during the night and as swift as possible. Merrill asked question after question, to which Isera answered to the best of her ability.

Isera finds Merrill incredibly sweet, but she would be kidding herself if Merrill was not using her sweetness as a tactic to lure others into a false sense of security. She has this innocence about her that makes others think that she is weak when she, in fact, is not.

“You are so lucky to be bestowed with just a gift from Mythal.” Merrill hums as they trot along the road.

Isera shakes her head. “Lucky is one way to describe it.” Isera murmurs as she glances up at the sky. The boon has assisted her when needed, but Solas was right—she is no longer herself in one way. She is bound to Mythal, a slave, and can be called upon at any time. Isera would have no bodily choice but to obey.

“You do not think so, Isera? To be serving one of the Gods is a great honor.” Merrill says staring at her.

“They aren’t Gods, Merrill.” Isera answers, her tone is polite but firm.

Merrill sighs. “You believe him? The Dread Wolf?” She asks. Only the inner council knew Solas’s true identity. Perhaps it would have been easier to tell the Elven Council that Solas is actually Fen’harel and he wants to tear down the Veil. That his goal is to restore his people by destroying this world. But then the People would want his blood.

“I do believe him.”

“Isera, he lied to you about who he was! How can you trust him?” Merrill presses turn her hart closer to Isera’s. “You say you want to protect the People, but could you do it? Put a dagger in his heart to protect all of us?”

No. “Yes,” Isera answers firmly, but her voice is high.

“Is he the father?”

Isera jerks her head to the side, looking at Merrill in surprise and fear. She does not answer.

“Merrill…” Isera whispers, her voice unable to conjure more words.

Merrill is shaking her head. “Isera, I trust you to lead us. I am confident that you have built this council to represent our People. I have promised to keep your secrets. But know this,” Merrill stares Isera down. “There may be a time where you will have to choose between him or the People.”

Isera looks away, her head cast down. “I know.”

There is a hidden meaning in Merrill’s statement. Merrill will kill her to protect the People if need be. Isera closes her eyes, pulls her shoulders back as she tilts her head up in pride—she wouldn’t have it any other way.  
\--  
They arrive at the keep in the early hours of the morning. Merrill is off of her hart faster than Isera thought possible. She quickly runs into the arms of Carver. He looks bashful at the sudden display of public affection.

Fenris and Banreas stand next to Carver, laughing among themselves. Isera dismounts and walks towards them.

“Commander.” Isera nods toward Fenris. “Herald.” Isera grins at Banreas as the word flows off of her tongue.

“ _Halan'ghillan_ ” They answer in unison.

Banreas glances at Fenris. “We have news to share, sister.” He announces as he motions to go within the building.

Isera frowns. She had planned on seeing her daughters. “Can it wait?” She asks.

“I’m afraid not,” Fenris announces as they walk into the war room reserved for the inner circle. “There have been attacks.” He states as he opens the door to the chamber.

“Men that are decorated in armor similar to Solas’s?”

They glance at each other before looking at her. “How did you know?” Banreas asks.

“We were attacked at the Temple of Mythal.”

Banrea jerks his head and stares at her. “Why would you go back there?” He demands. His hands are balled into a fist resting on the table.

Isera blinks. “Merrill and I were searching the Fade for information to help us.” Her voice is hesitant as she answers.

“Isera—really? For him? To stop him?” There is a strain in his voice. He is angry with her. “Get your head out of the clouds, Isera. He is not worth saving. You should focus on protecting the People and raising your children!” He berates her.

Isera snarls at his word that cut deep into her heart. “I am protecting the People, Banreas. While you run around attempting to kill him, what have I built?” She shouts. “Where were you for the last six years while I raised the People up?” She slams her hand onto the table.

“I have given everything to the People. Don’t you dare question my loyalty, brother.”

The twins continue to stare each other down. The room is thick with tension as Fenris coughs awkwardly next to Banreas, apparently had been forgotten about in the feud.

“I have chosen a second-in-command, at any rate.” Fenris continues. “A young man by the name of Taminsan.”

Isera breaks her stare with her brother to look at Fenris. “I would like to meet him.” She tells him. “Any other news?” She asks, her tone hard and quick. “If not, I want to see my daughters.” Isera is annoyed and upset.

Fenris shakes his head. “No. I will arrange for you to meet Taminsan later tonight if that is sufficient for you.”

“It is,” Isera answers as she turns and leaves the room without another word. Her skin is hot and lungs tight as she storms away from the chamber. She blinks back the tears that are forming as she makes her way to the classroom where the Elders teach the mages of the Clans. Sora and Veira are in separate groups learning basic defensive wards. Each group of children is being watched by a Second from the Clans.

When the class ends, Isera walks down the stairs to greet her children.

They yell when they see her as they rush towards her. She had been gone for almost a week and seeing them brings joy into her heart, the anger from earlier slowly fading away. “Darlings!” Isera calls as she bends down to hug them. The twins are quick to delve into their stories and games they played while she had been gone.

“Uncle B is fun too.” Sora giggles. “He let us play with his fancy arm!”

“Oh, did he?”

“Mom, I want a fancy arm like Uncle!” Veira announces, thrusting her arm into the air and wiggling her fingers. “It’s all glow-y and magic-y.”

Isera laughs. “Maybe we can ask Danga to make something like Uncle B’s?” Isera suggests as she takes her daughter's hands and leads them back to her room.

Solas should be taking the girls for the rest of the day. When Isera walks into her quarters, a black bird is sitting on her desk.

“Hello, Solas.” She greets as she watches he transforms back into his humanoid form.

The girls are giggling as they rush up to him. He hugs them with a smile on his face. Isera can’t help but wonder if it was indeed him who sent the men to the Temple of Mythal. He would have been unaware of her presence.

Isera is becoming acutely aware of the brewing war against him will begin to impact her—spefically the girls. If he begins advancing his men onto her land, she would be forced to retaliate by order of the Council. But they agreed to not speak of each other’s plans—if it were not for the girls, Solas would not be here.

She smiles as he takes the girls through the eluvian. He says something on he way out, but Isera does not hear him. There is a heaviness in her chest and body as she falls into her bed. She is tired of the masquerade. But she will endure, for her children.

There is a knock at her door, a squire informing her that Fenris would like to speak with her. Isera nods as she heads for his office.

Fenris is leaning against his desk as a young man is talking to the seamstress as he holds something in his hand.

“How is the fit?” the seamstress asks as she takes the cloth back, rubbing the soft leather between her bony fingers.

“The binder is tight around the arms.” The man indicates by showing the red lines around his shoulders. “It makes it harder to swing the blade.”

The seamstress nods. “Perhaps we use a different material near the arms for increased flexibility.” She taps her finger on her lips. “Yes, yes that could work. I shall work on that now.” She mutters as she wanders out of the room.

Fenris stands as he walks over to Isera. “Taminsan. I would like to introduce you to Isera, the leader of the Elven Council.”

Taminsan tenses as he looks at her. “Halan'ghillan!” He stutters out. “…My lady!...Ma’am!” The young recruit stands with his shoulders pulled back tight.

Isera smiles. “Relax.” She tells him. “I hear you are to be our second in command?” She asks as she nods to Fenris.

“Yes, ma’am.” He answers, his shoulders still pulled tight.

“You can call me Isera, Taminsan.” Isera motions as she moves to sit on a nearby couch. Taminsan glances at Fenris, who nods, before he relaxes and slowly follows her.

“Yes…Isera.” Taminsan answers. Isera can tell the words are awkward on his tongue.

Fenris coughs. “Taminsan is skilled in many weapons, including the polearm, and has been leading a small platoon to defend the borders for some time now. He has a high approval both with the Council and the men and women who serve us.”

Isera nods. “And what is he meant to lead?” She asks, turning to look at Fenris. He hums in thought. “Merrill once shared a story of knights who protected the borders of the Dales…the…” Fenris pauses trying to recall the story.

“The Emerald Knights, sir.” Taminsan answers.

“Correct,” Fenris concludes. “I seek to make him the leader of a new division of Emerald Knights.” He continues. “With the hounds sent over from Ferelden, it would be a most…amiable partnership.”

“Ah,” Isera hums. “You seek to create the Emerald Knights once more?” Isera asks.

Fenris nods in confirmation.

“Taminsan, may we speak alone?” Isera asks as she motions for her to join him on the bench. Fenris nods as he departs from his office.

Taminsan moves to sit next to Isera, but he is clearly nervous as he waits for her to speak. “Tell me about yourself, Taminsan,” Isera asks.

Taminsan nods. “I am from Clan Alerion before we came to join the Council. I have trained extensively with multiple weapons and have lead men around the Citadelle du Corbeau.” He concludes.

Isera smiles. “Yes, Fenris shared that. But I want to know about you Taminsan.”

Taminsan looks away in thought, there is a redness across his cheeks and on the tips of his eyes. “Oh,” He mumbles. “I have a sister who is in Llomerryn. I like playing Diamondback.” He pauses. “Forgive me…Isera…” Her name is slow from his lips. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Everything. You are going to be second in command of the Emerald Knights, no?”

“Yes…but…”

“You are worse than Fenris when I tried to talk to him too.” Isera frowns as she leans into the couch. “You will be part of the inner council now. I like to get to know the people who work for the Elven Council.” She pauses. “Plus, I find people are more willing to discuss things with me when they know that I am more than the name the People call me.”

She stands. “At any rate, it will be good to have the Emerald Knights return.”

Taminsan stands, following Isera as she begins to walk. “You give your approval then? We can restore the Knights?”

Isera turns to look at him. “Approval? Please.” Isera hums. “Fenris had the approval from the Senate long before he told me.” Despite the creation of the Senate, people still desire for her approval on things, even if the Senate has voted to move forward with a petition.

Taminsan looks away. “I only meant…to seek your blessing, _Halan'ghillan_. You must be blessed by the Gods to carry the elves this far!” His voice is full of hope as he looks back at her.

Isera smiles but it does not meet her eyes. “I am not touched by divine forces, _da’len_.” She tells him. “I will not give you a blessing if you seek it under the guise of _Halan’ghillan_. I will, however, strive to support the Emerald Knights in other ways as the leader of the Elven Council. Armor is more efficient way at stopping arrows and blades than prayers, no?” She turns and begins walking away from the soldier.

Solas once told her that the Gods came to be as a desire for simplicity. First, they were respected leaders, then respected generals, and then they became Gods. She created an order when there was none, she gave the elves political power and a home when there was none. It is an easy excuse to say she is touched by the Gods, just as it was when Banreas lead the Inquisition.

But this is not the work of the Gods.

\---

Briala is rushing towards her panic in her face as Isera walks the gardens. “He’s here!” She says as she begins to motion Isera to follow her. "Why are you not dressed?" She demands.

Isera’s eyebrows furrow as she follows Briala. She glances down at the simple dress she is wearing before looking back at Briala. “Who is?” She asks as she tries to keep pace.

“King Alistair!” Briala answers with exhaustion. “He is accompanied by the elven representatives from Northern and Southern Ferelden!”

Her shoulders tighten, and her body feels hot. “I thought they were coming next week!” Isera whispers, her voice is harsh and low. It is barely noon and this day has been chaos since she returned.

“No, it is this week. I have arranged to have the King placed in the tower hall, the room that overlooks the villages and river. We have people cleaning and organizing the room to suit his stature. The representatives will be in nearby rooms as well.” Briala informs her as they walk into Isera’s quarters.

“You are not dressed to greet royalty.” She states as she throws open the closet door. She halts when she sees the inactive mirror. “Why is there an eluvian in your closet?” Briala asks as she side eyes Isera.

Isera takes a deep breath. “Merrill and I have been attempting to access the cross roads covertly.” She answers. Her response is partly true.

“The Senate does not know?”

Isera’s lips tighten at the question. “No.” She answers.

“Ah,” Briala hums. “Probably for the best at this moment.” She replies as she pulls out an appropriate elven designed gown for Isera to put on. Isera can tell that Briala, her spymaster, is not happy with being excluded from the covert task, but Briala won't challenge her right now.

They have created an elaborate of their role in the Council. Isera is the face, apparent leader, Briala is the left hand, Fenris the right hand and the body is the Senate, and the heart is the People.

Isera is quick to change as they head to the Great Hall of the Keep. Fenris and Merrill are standing in front of the King and representatives of Ferelden. Tamensin is standing off to the side in the armor designed for the Emerald Knights.

Isera and Briala walk through the side door. “King Alistair,” Briala sings as she walks into the Great Hall with confidence. The room is full of the People and Elven Council and the small section of Ferelden Army.

The King shifts to the side, recognizing Briala. “Right, hello.” He greets. There is a man next to the King, his brooch indicating to Isera that he is the King’s Hand, coughs with force. “Standing before you is King Alistair of Ferelden!” He announces.

“I think they figured that out, Henry.” The King waves his hand to dismiss the man. “Who else would they think I was?”

The man grimaces at the King’s dismissal but remains silent.

Briala steps forward. “It is a pleasure to see you again, King Alistair. I am pleased to introduce you to Commander Fenris, Advisor Merrill, and Lady Isera.” She announces as she motions to each individual. “We welcome you to the Elven Council.”

Alistair nods. “Wait, have I met you two before?” He points to Fenris and Merrill, staring at them intensely.

“Oh, yes!” Merrill replies with excitement. “In Kirkwall after that terrible spat with the Knight-Commander.”

He frowns. “Right, right.” Alistair’s eyes narrow in thought. “You were associates of the Champion of Kirkwall?”

“Yes!” Merrill answers with unbridled cheerfulness.

Isera steps forward. “It is a pleasure to meet you, King Alistair.” She curtsies out of respect, but she can feel the ambivalence in the air from her people of the action.

“Oh, right. Are you the Dalish Queen, then?” He asks.

She can see the two elven representatives from Ferelden stiffen at his words. The red hair one shakes her head and throws her arms in the air.

Isera freezes, a polite smile stuck on her face as the People gasp in shock. “I am afraid you are mistaken, your Majesty. The People are not exclusively of Dalish origin, and we have no Queen.” She politely corrects.  
  
Alistair sighs his face tinted red. “Maker! I knew I should have waited for Lyna. My apologies, Isera and to your People.”

The two elves behind them approach. “Perhaps we should have introductions as well?” the blonde haired one with the _vallaslin_ suggests, her voice is soft but demanding.

Alistair straightens. “Right, of course. Please meet Keeper Lanaya of the Southern Ferelden Dalish Clan and Bann and,” Alistair pauses, staring at Shianna. “Ha-ran, Shianni the Denerim Elven representative.”

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you,” Isera responds her arms open. “I am sure you are tired from your journey. Come, we will show you to your rooms. We can have high tea afterward.” Isera suggests as she motions for them to follow her.

Once they are alone, Alistair releases a sigh. “I knew I should have waited for Lyna. I nearly caused a war in there. I called you a Queen!” He turns to Shianni. “I told you I wasn’t good at human politics; why did you think I would be any better at elven politics?” He complains.

Isera tries to restrain from giggling. She had met the King once before after the defeat of Corypheus and read letters he wrote to Banreas. The King’s honesty and humor are refreshing compared to the Great Game in Orlais.

Shianni shrugs. “You could have been worse.” She answers her short red hair bouncing with every step. “Ha-ran.” She mimics his voice.

“Hah-ren, hah-ren,” Alistair repeats correctly. “This is why Lyna needed to be there.”

“The Hero of Ferelden will be here soon, King Alistair. I’m sure she will laugh at you too.” Keeper Lanaya jokes.

The King scoffs. “Oh, I know she will. That is her favorite past time, don’t you know?” Alistair turns to look at Isera. “I am sorry, though. I hope this hasn’t caused a political rift.”

Isera smiles. “It is quite all right. I’m sure Keeper Lanaya or Bann Shianni can explain the political structure of the Elven Council.” Isera turns to look at Lanaya and Shianni. “It is nice to meet you—we have corresponded much over the years.”

The Keeper nods. “We are both happy to be here. We are happy someone has established a home for the People. We only hope to expand” Lanaya pauses to look at Alistair. “With only the best intentions, of course.”

Alistair looks at her. “Look,” he says at Isera stops in front of the rooms. “I have worked closely with both of you to establish laws protecting the elves and providing equal rights. I would seek an alliance between the elves and Ferelden, not war.”

“That is assuring, King Alistair. I’m sure we have time to talk politics later.” Isera offers as she opens the door to the Tower Hall. “I will have the servants bring up hot water if you seek to bath and some refreshments.” She states as she turns to take her leave.


	5. Chapter 5

Banreas and Briala are hot on her tail as she turns to the Great Hall from her brief escort with the King and the elven representatives.

“Did he say anything?” Briala asks.

 

Isera shakes her head. “No, but prepare for the Hero of Ferelden. He stated that she is on her way here as well.” She pauses. “Inform Merrill as well. They came from the same Clan.”

Briala nods as she turns another corner to prepare for the upcoming guest. Banreas continues to follow Isera. “You didn’t tell me that the King of Ferelden would be here.” He states with annoyance.

 

Isera sighs. “Well, brother,” Isera hums, “seeing as you are here as a guest, it was not pertinent to share that with you.” She bites the words out with a smile on her face.

Banreas scoffs. “I should have been presented as well. We could have shown unity given my history with the King.”

 

“Again, seeing as how you are a guest, it would have been unnecessary.” Isera reiterates.

Banreas stops in his tracks. “Really? Is this how you are going to treat me now?” He barks out. His hands rest on his hips as he stares at her. She can feel his glare burning against her back.

 

“I am treating you as a guest, brother.” She turns to him her face unmoving. “If you want a position within the Council or the Inner Circle you can petition the Senate. But, as you are a guest,” she stresses for the fourth time, “your opinion is not needed.”

His eyes narrow, face jerks slightly as his nose crinkles at her words—they have cut him. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he begins to nods. “All right, sister.” He clucks. “Once upon a time, you would have accepted my help without question, just as you did for me all those years ago.”

 

“Banreas, I am not fighting a war. I am trying to establish bonds for the People.” Isera states, cocking her head to the side. “I would welcome your help…but unfortunately, my head is in the clouds, no?” She replies, her voice quiet and unwavering. “So lost in the clouds am I, that I am clearing incapable of leading the People without your assistance?” She questions.

“Isera—that is not what I meant!” Banreas shouts, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“Isn’t it?” Isera shouts in return. “That I am so blinded by my love for him that I cannot be capable of also loving the People?” She cries. She pauses for a moment, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall.

“I have helped build the People up, Banreas.” Isera sighs, a pain growing behind her eyes. “While you crawled in the shadows looking for his secrets, I sought to unite the People. I worked to build ties with the humans. I gave the voice to the People while you focused solely on him.” She pauses, biting her lower lip as she looks away. “You may not agree with my methods, Ban. But don’t you dare question my loyalty to the People.”

 

Isera as she turns to walks away, she pulls her shoulders back, blinks back the tears and takes a deep breath. “Veira would like you to help her design a brace for her like your prosthetic and bring it to Danga. You should do that.” She tells him as she walks away.

\---

Isera hates the feeling of being angry. Whenever she was angry as a child, she would go through herself into her studies. Today is no different. Hours after the fight with her brother, Isera is wondering the library looking for a text that she wants to study for a ritual.

 

“Lady Lavellan!” A soft voice calls to Isera as she walks through the library. Isera turns and smiles. “Fiona!” Isera beams. “How are you?” She asks as she motions for Fiona to walk with her.

“Is it true,” She asks. “That the King of Ferelden is here?” Fiona seems more nervous than Isera has ever seen her.  Fiona arrived at the Citadelle du Corbeau roughly six months after its inception. Isera only spoke to her a few times during her stay in Skyhold. She represented the Enchanter’s College presence in the Keep for the moment.

 

Madame De Fer has tried on multiple occasion to recruit mages from the Keep at little success to help her restore the Circle. The Senate is not fond of the Circle given the recent war. The Enchanter’s College, on the other hand, gave the chance to share knowledge.

That being said, the Dalish are still protective of their magic.

 

“It is.” Isera answers look at Fiona. “You know him, don’t you? Because…of Redcliffe?”

Fiona looks away. “Yes…I was good friends with his father, Maric.” She answers. “I met him when I was a Grey Warden.”

 

Isera straightens in surprise. “Was? I wasn’t aware that the Grey Warden’s retired to a quiet life, Fiona…give what I learned at Adamant.” 

“You would be right…normally.” Fiona answers. “You know the ritual that the Wardens undertake, so there is no point in keeping this a secret from you. The taint, what makes the Wardens part of the Darkspawn, is no longer part of me. Thus, I was casted out of the Grey Wardens and returned to the Circle.”

 

Isera frowns. “You were cured of the taint?” She murmurs, “Isn’t the Hero of Ferelden looking for a cure? Have you spoken to either King Alistair or tried to contact her to share what you know?” Isera vaguely recalls a letter received from Banreas from the Hero of Ferelden stating she was on a quest to cure the taint.

She watches as Fiona processes the information shared. “She…she is?” Fiona mumbles in though. “After what happened at Adamant…” Her thought trails off. “I should help them the best I can.” She finally mumbles out.

 

Isera nods. “I will be meeting with the King and his advisors soon. I will call you before it ends. If the Elven Council can assist the Order, we should. 

Fiona pauses. “My lady…is it true you have also been assisting the Templar who no longer wish to be on lyrium?” She asks.

 

Isera glances away for a moment. She had wondered how long it would have taken for the rumors to spread. “I have been assisting in funding that, yes.” She answers.

“Why would you seek to help the orders who did some of the most damage during the Mage and Templar war?” Fiona asks, her shoulders pushed forward patiently waiting for the response.

Isera hums. “No one should be bound as they are.” She answers, nodding as she turns to depart.

\---

Isera arrives at the vestibule that will be hosting the meeting with the Ferelden King and Representatives.  The servants had already dropped off the tea as Isera stands near the open window. She is extremely anxious as she turns to head into a room off of the vestibule to snack on the food that hadn’t been taken out yet.

She rounds the corner to see the King sitting on a dusty barrel with a handful of cheese in one hand and his free hand carrying another slice of cheese into his mouth. Isera freezes as King Alistair stares at her, his eyes wide with every bite.

 

“You know,” He says, “The Orlesian’s are bad at many things…but they make good cheese.” He pauses as he puts another slice into his mouth. “You’re not Orlesian are you?” He asks as he continues to stare at her. “You don’t seem Dalish either, though.”

Isera pulls her lips together as she looks around. “I am from Rivain.” She answers.

 

“Ah,” He hums. “My mentor was from Rivain.”

Isera nods. “I’m sorry, but are you drunk?” the words fall from her mouth without a thought to politeness and titles.

 

Alistair begins laughing. “I guess I do look pretty ridiculous right now.” He answers as he shrugs. “I just like cheese. Also, talking politics is uncomfortable.” He sighs. “Lyna helped set up everything the Lanaya and Shianni. I just signed the papers and smiled.” 

Isera nods as she slowly takes a slice of cheese from the cart.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this. If my advisor got wind of this, he would have a heart attack.”

 

“King Alistair”

“Please, just call me Alistair.”

 

“Alistair…I have heard nothing but good things about you, the Divine had many things to say about you.” Isera answers.

Alistair frowns. “Leliana has gone up in the world.” He answers thoughtfully. “She was your brother’s spymaster, wasn’t she? I shudder to think about what dirt she has on me.”

 

“Probably a lot,” Isera answers as she moves out of the room to sit on the couch near the window.

Shianni and Lanaya walk in just as the King sits on the lounge chair across from her. The two smile as they sit down.

 

Isera smiles. “Well now that we are all here…” 

Overall, the talks go smoothly. Isera is surprised just how supportive King Alistair is of the cause. If it is from the urging of the two representatives or Warden-Commander Lyna, Isera is unsure. But by the end of the week, Isera will have secured an alliance between the Elven Council and the Ferelden Crown.

 

In addition, Alistair promises twelve dozen pure breed Ferelden mabari.

As the meeting comes to a close, Isera calls from one of the servants to retrieve Fiona for her meeting with Alistair. “King Alistair. There is one thing I would like to discuss in private—it pertains to Lyna’s efforts for the Grey Wardens.” She states cryptically, unsure if the two representatives are aware of the Warden Commander's search.

 

“Oh!” Alistair gasps. “All right?” He is taken aback by the announcement.

The two representative depart and head down for supper as Fiona walks into the door. Alistair immediately frowns as Fiona sits across from him. “Grand Enchanter.” He greets curtly.

 

“Just Fiona now, my King,” Fiona bows her head. Isera steps forward when Alistair say nothing else.

 

“Forgive me, King Alistair,” Isera says as she sits back down. “But, I believe Fiona has valuable information for Lyna’s mission to find a way to cure the taint from the Grey Wardens.”

Alistair nods. “That’s right. You used to be in the Order.” He mumbles. He focuses his stare on her.

 

“I knew, Duncan.” She answers. Alistair sits straighter at name.

 

“You knew Duncan?” He asks. Isera is unsure of whom he speaks.

“Yes…we…were dear friends. We traveled often for the Order.”

 

Alistair hums. “You don’t have the taint in you, though. Did you complete the Joining?” He asks.

“Yes,” Fiona answers. “As a matter of fact, I saw Duncan through his joining.” She responds with a smile. Isera can see Alistair slowly beginning to relax.

 

Isera stands. “It appears you two have much to discuss. I, unfortunately, have other things to attend to.” Isera states as she moves to leave the room. The two are in a deep discussion over the man name Duncan.

\---

Isera makes her way back to her quarters. The sun is setting, and this is the usual time for Solas to drop of the girls. Isera stops in the kitchen on her way back to grab a piece of fruit and a piece of bread.

 

She walks into the room and drops the apple onto the floor. Solas is standing partially out of the closet with the girls behind him, and Banreas is across from him glaring at him.

Isera feels her body drop in temperature, suddenly feeling freezing as she closes the door.

 

“Banreas…” Isera breathes out his name, suddenly very afraid of Solas and her daughters.

“You have been seeing him? Behind everyone’s back?” Banreas shouts, his eyes still fixated on Solas. He looks ready to pounce, but he lacks the weapons to do so.

 

“He sees the girls, not me.” Isera answers quickly.

“Like that is better!” Banreas snarls.

 

Solas stands unmoving, a protector for the girls who are crying with fear and confusion. Isera slowly walks between the two men.

 

“You’re helping him, aren’t you?” Banreas accuses, rushing forward, squaring his shoulders to Isera. Isera stands her guard feeling Solas approach from behind, his hands on his shoulders, trying to pull her back and move her away from the aggression being displayed. “She is not.” He answers, his voice cool and guarded.

“I’m going to kill you, you know?” Banreas announces to Solas, throwing his hands in the air. His words sting her ears, and the air feels heavy as they realize the girls are still present.

 

Suddenly, there are small arms around her legs, and the screaming in her ears becomes louder. Isera watches as the anger across Banreas’s face turns into guilt and worry. 

“That is enough,” Isera begs, dropping to her knees to cradle her daughters. “We do not speak of those things in their presence.” She orders kissing her daughters on the forehead.

 

Banreas shakes his head. “Whatever.” He rubs the back of his neck as he begins walking out of the room, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

Isera continues to cradle the girls, trying to hold back her tears. Solas bends down next to her, his face buried in her hair and his arms around his family. Their family is being torn apart, and she has no control anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are really appreciated!


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